


favored

by canniballistics



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, M/M, pure goddamn fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:09:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4224678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canniballistics/pseuds/canniballistics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke and Fenris being super cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	favored

**Author's Note:**

> written for kisu-no-hi over at tumblr! she mentioned she wanted some happy fenhawke, so I wanted to try to deliver. it's not _exactly_ canon complaint, but shhhh. shhhhhhhh. it's my first time writing Fenris, so I hope it's okay.

He wakes up in the morning a little bit uncomfortable, too hot, and feeling rather as though he'd just fought a legion of ogres, his body is so heavy. When Fenris opens his eyes, he finds that it's not so different: Hawke is curled close around him, an arm thrown across his chest, legs tangled with his own, and snoring softly into the crook of his neck. The image of an octopus strangling its prey comes to mind, and when he chuckles at the thought, Hawke's eyes open. He smiles lazily, his beard scratching as he leans in those few millimeters to kiss Fenris' cheek.

"Morning, love," he says, and Fenris hopes he's still too asleep to notice how pleased the endearment makes him. 

"Good morning, Hawke." 

It's a strange feeling, to wake up next to another person and be glad for their being there. Even now, after but a few months of being together, Fenris still isn't quite used to it and doesn't know that he ever will be. For now, however, he relishes in the way Hawke's beard scratches against his skin, the weight of his arm, the heat that radiates off his skin. It's comfortable, for all that he's uncomfortable, and it's hard to imagine that he's spent nearly every morning like this.

Hawke sits up a little, smiling down at him. "For how early in the morning it is, you're looking rather pleased with yourself. Care to share with the rest of the party?"

"Perhaps." Fenris shifts, rolling onto his side so he can lie face-to-face with him. "I'd just realized that come winter, we won't need any furs or extra blankets on the bed."

"Oh?" Hawke's eyebrows rise just a little. "And why's that?"

"Because," Fenris begins, "I dreamt last night that I was laying on the sun, but when I woke up, it was only you." It's not quite the truth, but how else to deflect from saying what he'd actually been thinking? 

He starts to think that the slight tease had gone wrong when Hawke frowns and takes a moment to respond. He gears himself up to say something, apologize or explain what he'd meant, when Hawke lets out a drawn-out, "So..." He takes one of Fenris' hands, studying his knuckles before kissing them. And then there's a grin as he looks up at him. "Are you saying that I'm your sunshine? Fenris, you're so sweet. I love you, too."

Hawke is still laughing when Fenris kicks him out of the bed, landing unceremoniously on his ass. He stretches as he stands up, leaning over the bed to kiss Fenris again before striding to the bureau to get dressed for the day. Fenris sits up, watching him as he moves, and wonders idly to himself how he'd gotten himself into this situation in the first place. He wonders, and smiles to himself when he realizes he doesn't care. He's happy here, and that's all that matters.

\---

Two weeks later, when Fenris wakes up and _isn't_ being slowly smothered to death, he looks over to find the other side of the bed empty. He debates with himself for a moment, wondering if this would be better or worse than finding Hawke instead sleeping with his back to him; he decides he hates both options and spends the next couple of days in one of his worst moods yet when the trend continues. Isabela is the one to ask one night, over a game of Wicked Grace.

"So, Fenris. Trouble in paradise?" She asks, laying down a card, and Fenris can hear the quiet _thump_ when Varric kicks her.

"Hey, I thought we decided not to ask about that," he mutters, and it's honestly the worst stage whisper Fenris has ever heard.

Isabela just rolls her eyes at him. "If Hawke is coming to _me_ to ask what's wrong, then I think I've a right to know."

"You two _do_ realize that I can hear you, right?" Fenris growls.

"I'd honestly be surprised if anyone in the Hanged Man _couldn't_ ," Anders comments idly. He sighs, sets his cards on the table. "But please, do continue. It's got to be better than this terrible hand I've got. I fold."

Fenris ignores him but, when he looks up from his own hand, is startled to find the table's attention focused on him. He glowers at the lot of them. "I don't think it's any of your business. If we're not going to keep playing," and he slams his cards down on the table, "then I believe I'm done for the night."

He leaves to a chorus of complaints and insincere apologies (and Isabela dubiously suggesting they invite Donnic if they can't convince Fenris to come back) and when he gets back to Hawke's estate, the man is already in bed, reading by lamplight. He smiles when Fenris walks in. 

"Welcome home. You're back early tonight — did Anders try to cheat by setting the table on fire again?"

"No." Fenris starts to explain and remembers his anger all over again; he pauses where he's begun preparing to join him in bed and instead crosses his arms over his chest. "Hawke. We need to talk."

It surprises Hawke, he can see it on his face even as he tries to hide it. He sets the book down, and in that moment Fenris hates how much he loves it when Hawke gives him his undivided attention. "Is everything all right, Fenris?" He asks warily. 

"Of course it's not "all right"," he spits in response. Fenris sighs, takes a deep breath as he rubs a hand over his face. _Calm down. Do not let your anger get the better of you. Hawke deserves better than that._ "Where have you been the last few mornings?" He tries not to sound defensive or upset as he says it, and only fails a little bit. 

Hawke's eyes go wide, and he pauses before answering quietly, "Would you believe that I was visiting my sister?"

"Bethany?" Fenris can't help being surprised at the answer, and just a little bit guilty at being upset. 

"The Templars on the morning shift are much more relaxed," Hawke begins to explain, "so there's a window of opportunity for me to see her."

Fenris is quiet then, his hurt cowed. How can he fault Hawke for wanting to see his sister? He looks up when he hears the sheets rustling, watches as Hawke walks over to him. Large hands settle on his shoulders, and he feels the beard against his forehead before the actual kiss. "Is that why you've been upset with me lately? I am sorry, Fenris."

Fenris feels the last of his anger drain out of him as he lets himself be folded into Hawke's arms. "You know you could have just told me," he mumbles into his chest.

Hawke freezes, and then there's a laugh. "Yes, but then you'd have heard what I was asking of her." He heaves a sigh, hugging Fenris tight before taking a step back. "This isn't quite the way I wanted to do this, you know. I had it all planned out." He rummages through the day's discarded clothes as he speaks. "I was going to take you out of Kirkwall. Somewhere neither of us have been. Maybe Antiva or Rivain."

"How do you know I haven't been to either of those places?" Fenris asks, but the tease is evident in his voice.

"Shush. I'm painting a beautiful picture for you," Hawke grins. "It would have been more than enough time for my commission to be finished. But, since you seem to have forced my hand..." He takes one of Fenris' hands, drawing him close, and wraps a red strip of fabric around his wrist. "I hope this will work in place of a ring. You'll stay with me, won't you?" 

Fenris is speechless for a moment, trying to let the words process and failing utterly. He stares at the strip of fabric, considers the idea of a _ring_ — "I thought I already _was_ staying with you."

Hawke just laughs. "I meant more permanently. You know. Until death do us part, and all that? To make it official."

"You're an idiot." 

It's all Fenris says before he drags Hawke into a thorough kiss, hands cupping the sides of his head as he leans up into it. There's another deep laugh from Hawke, and they make short work of Fenris' clothes before falling into bed. 

\--- 

It's after, when they're both basking in the aftermath of good sex, that Fenris thinks to speak up. "Hawke."

"Mm?" Hawke doesn't bother opening his eyes, just pulls him closer into his chest and kisses the back of his neck.

"Why did you have to ask Bethany how to..." And Fenris pauses, unable to quite bring himself to say the word 'propose'. 

Hawke seems to understand, thankfully; he's silent for a second, before kissing the tip of an ear. "Well," he begins. "It's not like I've had any experience in the matter before. I thought she might know."

"And she told you what to do?"

"Maker, no." Hawke laughs. "She was as clueless as I was. We asked one of her friends, who'd been married before they brought him to the Gallows. He had a lot of suggestions, most of them involving declarations off the rooftops, hiring bards, that sort of thing. I wanted to do the opposite. Something I thought you'd like." And then he gets quiet. "I was still trying to sort it out, you know." 

Fenris rolls around, shifting so he can face him — and headbutts him gently. "Perhaps if you hadn't taken to leaving before I'd woken, I might not have been so angry with you."

"It won't happen again," Hawke promises, and he shifts to get comfortable, beginning to doze off. "On my honor as Champion."

"Good." Fenris watches as Hawke drifts off, and his heart swells. He won't doubt him again, he decides, and kisses his chin before joining him in sleep.


End file.
